The Prince and his Queen
by NithyaTemperance
Summary: They are not made for each other;but he is for her. One sided IshiRuki,implied-IchiRuki and one-sided RenRuki.


The Prince and his Queen

In a fairytale, Ishida Uryuu is the Prince. He's gallant, he's chivalrous, he's brave.

In the same fairytale, there is also Kuchiki Rukia.

Kuchiki Rukia is kind.

Kuchiki Rukia is strong.

Kuchiki Rukia is gorgeous.

Kuchiki-san is a goddess.

He's always known that, of course. How could he not? Whenever Abarai Renji has called her pure, she's been around to prove it by being the gentlest soul to ever touch their lives, whenever Asano Keigo has called her beautiful; she's been around to prove it by being the most exquisite, tempting fruit outside of Eden. Her eyes contain violet starlight, as he discovered when she fixed him with them; her lips are petals of gossamer, as he found out once when they accidentally brushed his cheek as he carried her injured form on his back. Her black hair is the ink that has sketched the universe, and the touch of her tiny hands is like the brushing of angel wings.

It is no surprise then, that she should be the Queen.

The Prince and the Queen have a secret indulgence. Of course, a prince is no proper escort for a queen, but rules are lax at ice-cream stalls outside public parks.

It starts for the first time after an attack. They have just returned, tired and cranky after destroying a particularly difficult hollow, and suffice to say no one's in a very good mood . Ishida's arm aches where the monster got him with its tail, even though Inoue-san has already healed him. Kuchiki-san sports a bleeding lip and a scratch on her cheek, which is driving Kurosaki crazy. They bicker over this, him and Kuchiki-san, while Ishida and Inoue-san sit back and watch like the outsiders they always feel like when these two start being like this . Kurosaki is mad because Kuchiki-san attempted to shield him and got herself hurt in the process. Kuchiki-san in livid that the orange-headed buffoon(her word, not Ishida's) thinks that she can't take care of herself . Kurosaki starts yelling ,but it's obvious, it's always been obvious hasn't it, that thinking of losing Kuchiki-san makes him like this…However, of course Kuchiki-san is Kuchiki-san,and is not impressed.  
Inoue-san, looking hurt and meek, leaves when she sees Kurosaki like this . Ishida feels for her, and he blames Kurosaki, for everything, period.  
Then suddenly, the buffoon in question storms out and it's just Kuchiki-san and him.  
She looks at him, the angry flush flowing out of her face.  
'I need something cold. That ass just fried my brains', she seethes.  
'Ice cream?' he offers.

And after that it becomes a ritual. A practice. Ice cream is between Kuchiki-san and him; it feels wrong in alternate company. She wraps around his soul, quicker and faster than a storm, and he doesn't realize, never realizes, just when ice cream becomes his life, and she his world. She laughs and she smiles freely during these outings, she bosses him around in a natural, easy way that has come a long way from her bowing and calling him Ishida-kun . He is warmer, less tight, less brooding when he sits beside her. He talks voluntarily about his family to her, how he can't identify with his father, how his Grandfather had been everything for him, and she listens with rapt attention, her tiny pink tongue flicking over her strawberry cone.  
She never comments, she just listens. She knows nothing about fathers or mothers or a home, but, she warns him, but he must always keep them in sight. Because you never know how precious some things are until you don't have them anymore . He listens obediently and nods, but mostly, he attempts to figure out her eyes. The huge pupils swirl with a billion liquefied amethysts, and when she comes to the part about losing someone, their edges harden and the gems solidify, making him wonder at what all those eyes have seen, what all they have endured.

As she sits next to him on the wooden bench in her light summer dress, she looks (deceptively) like an ordinary young girl. The white suits her more than he would have thought. Her shiny sable hair ruffles gently in the warm breeze. She's beautiful. She squeals in spite of herself when she sees a rabbit hop past, she points it out to him and jumps up to follow it . Ishida sits and watches her skip over the green grass, and he thinks, again, that God, she's beautiful . Slowly , against his will, Ishida Uryuu has started to understand the magic that Kuchiki Rukia weaves without her own knowledge, the spell of just her existence that makes her indispensible, irreplaceable in the hearts of so many people.

It's almost evening now, and the sky has tinged itself the mildest orange and violet, the colors bringing a strange, bitter taste in Ishida's mouth. But he endures it, because somehow their light makes her look even more exquisite. He gets up though, they should leave-its getting dark and _people_ will be out looking for her. There's an unexpected satisfaction in his heart, because she was here with him, had happily spent all afternoon with him, and no one could change that.  
No one can take that away from him.

They pass ice cream stalls again, at the park exit. She wants to have some again . He grumbles half-heartedly as he watches her pay for the cones, and reprimands her, tells her she will catch a nasty cold this way. She tells him not to look down on her immunity system and to worry more about his own frail self. He chokes on his bite and glares at her, and she sneers playfully back. For a moment he stares.  
So this is the face…that she usually only shows _him_?

Dusk is upon them, and their short time together is almost up. She pauses at the final turn that will bring them in view of the Kurosaki house (He's insisted on seeing her home, even though she tells him that he's a moron and that she can take care of herself)

'Ishida', she says.

Her voice is light and soft like frothy cream and gorgeous velvet, and he could stand there forever just listening to it.

'Yes, Kuchiki-san?'

Because he doesn't call her Rukia, not even in his head, because how dare he, what an affront, what presumptuousness…to address something as sacred, as…as…

She turns to face him, and the violet eyes are dimmer and the smile is sad.

'You know, don't you?'

What is she talking about? ...Ishida may look like a stuck up prince, but he sees a lot, knows a lot. Was she asking him if he knew that she'd visited Soul Society yesterday? Or that there are strange rumors floating around over there about the Kuchiki clan? … Did _she_ know, had she even noticed, really, that instead of the two men for whom she is the moon and the star, there are now three? That for him she is neither of the celestial bodies but the very air he needs to breathe?

But never mind about that. For he is Ishida. He's the arrogant kid in perpetual white, and he doesn't even count, isn't even visible when _he_ is there._ He_ is the only one who gets to bicker with her, hold her, touch her, worry about her, protect her, love her more than sanity permitted.

No, Ishida Uryuu doesn't count. Right now, she is asking…about _that_, isn't she? She wants to know if he knows…yeah, she wants to know if he knows that she is leaving.

Sapphire meets amethyst and she acknowledges his knowledge.

'I can't tell Ichigo'

Of course. Because that fool was always the exception.

Ishida pushes his glasses up his nose.

'You need not worry. I shall handle him after your departure' He pushes his hands in his pockets in a false show of indifference ; yes , he's always been good at that.

Kuchiki-san smiles then, a proper, radiant smile that lights up the dark street and obstinately pushes its way in through the iron gates of his heart.

'Thank you', she whispers. And then-'Ah! I almost forgot!'

She extracts something from her violet messenger bag and thrusts it into his hands' Here!'Slowly, deliberately, because he can't stand looking up at her face, Ishida unwraps the delicate crepe paper around the gift.

'It's-it's not very good, I'm afraid. I really am terrible with this stuff…Inoue is much better, I should have taken her help…'she stutters slightly, self-conscious and embarrassed.

Ishida stares at the thick white woolen scarf in his hands, at the numerous Quincy crosses painstakingly embroidered in blue.

'It's-a little something…I got gifts for everyone…and well, you seem to have everything, so I really couldn't figure out what to get you, so I made a-'

'It's perfect', he cuts her off. He keeps his head lowered, not trusting himself to put up an emotionless front anymore.' Thank you very much, it is-It is beautiful'

She smiles softly.

'It's the least I could do-to thank you for all your help', she bows gratefully to him, and Ishida's fingers tighten around the soft fabric of the scarf.

Do you thank _him_ like this too?, he thinks bitterly, furiously.

But outward, he bows back.

'You owe me nothing, we have assisted each other numerous times. There is no debt between us, we are nakama'

She smiles wider, and this time the smile stabs at his heart, makes him wince at her happy acceptance of this veritable definition of their relationship.

They walk towards the lit house and he asks , in spite of himself, the question he doesn't want to know the answer to.

'When do you leave?'

'Uhm…not sure , maybe tomorrow , day after…'

'I see'

Silence crawls up between them as they walk on, both lost in their individual thoughts. As they near the gate of the house, they can hear Kurosaki yelling at Isshin inside about how it was all his fault for not having asked Rukia where she was going, and how he was going to kill his father if the idiot(Rukia) got lost somewhere and he had to go look for her.

Kuchiki-san makes a face, and Ishida sighs disbelievingly.

What a moron. What a spectacularly pathetic worrier.

'Well, good night then , Ishida . Be careful on your way back', she says. He averts his eyes at how much more alive she looks, how much happier, by just being within hearing distance of _him_.

' Ah . Good night'', he turns to leave, his limbs suddenly too stiff, his head numb.

'Ishida?'

'Yes?'

She is bowing again.

'Please-please take care of Ichigo!'

The last Quincy looks at the tiny bowed form. Her scarf is wrapped around his neck, even though winter is far away. He nuzzles his nose into its warmth and safety, realizing, with a thrill, that it still smells of her.

This is the closest he'll get to her.

'For you', he agrees.

He'll take what he gets after all.

Because really , he has never had any choice when it comes to her.

_He was a Prince, handsome and strong as they came,_

_With a snow white cape the color of her pure skin,_

_But her majestic head was for a crown made,_

_Leaving him to pine for her , as she sat beside her King._


End file.
